


All the Sickness Starts in the Heart

by Laika_the_husband (Laika_the_wife)



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Bad Boy Even, Complicated Relationships, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Dark, Endgame, Eventual Happy Ending, Future, Gritty, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Police, Science Fiction, Self-Harm, Self-Medication, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laika_the_wife/pseuds/Laika_the_husband
Summary: Superpowers! Grit! Supercriminals! Future tech! Angst!Isak Valtersen is special. He can't be harmed by anyone but himself. You stab him in the heart, and boom, your own blood spills out of your chest as Isak stands there watching, without a scratch. For the past five years he has assisted the police with tricky situations, but then his secret leaks out.Out of work, out of purpose, the weight of dozens of bodies on his chest, Isak comes to notice a man, who seems to be following him. Who is this tall stranger, and what does he want with Isak?(Title snatched from Arcade Fire's song, Peter Pan)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 4 of Gotham came on my Netflix and I remembered this thing I had tucked away.
> 
> This is not a crossover, but the mood is very similar. Detective Jonas Noah Vasguez is heavily inspired by detective Gordon, and Isak is channeling him a bit too. He's a great character, and I am an author, thus I am a thief. I hope to do him justice.
> 
> If you know me, you know how this goes. I get excited about a new verse, introduce it, then forget about it for five months, then get back to it out of the blue. I am not saying this will be any different.
> 
> But I am really feeling this story. I love gritty!Isak.
> 
> Any possible death is an original character. Once again, there will be no sexual violence, because that is not entertainment.
> 
> Keep checking the notes and tags!

The sirens had finally stopped wailing, but the lights were still flashing. Six units had arrived at the scene, with their guns pointing at the sliding doors of the food distribution centre. Directly behind those doors stood a young woman, in her twenties, holding a man at gunpoint. On her shoulder was a bag, stuffed with foil packages, enough to feed five people for a week. Certainly enough to be worth the risk.

Isak grouched back behind the police car.

“This is not going the way she planned.”

Jonas gave him a dry smirk.

“Oh, really? An everyday heist turned into a hostage situation where she can not escape wasn’t her plan all along?”

“We’ve seen crazier.”

Jonas sighed.

“Yeah. Ever since I met you, all I’ve seen has been some crazy shit.”

“Comes with the job, detective Vasquez.”

Jonas peeked over the car. The negotiations hadn’t advanced at all. The woman was getting agitated and aggressive. The man’s life was at risk. Isak glanced at Jonas’ pad. The hostage was a volunteer worker in a church food program. They could not afford to lose him, the papers would tear the chief a new one. Their unit was having enough trouble as it was.

“Are you ready to do yours?” Jonas asked.

“Am I ever?” Isak sighed. He hated this. They never listened. They just never listened.

“That guy has a family.”

“I bet she does as well.”

“She’s made her choice. Nobody put that gun in her hand, she grabbed it herself.”

Isak licked his lips quickly.

“Does that thought help you sleep at night?”

“Yes. Yes it does. We’re doing good here. As much as we can.”

“You’re a good cop, Jonas”, Isak said. Neither of them could be quite sure if it was a compliment or not. They didn’t have time to figure that out. Isak stood up, removed his denim jacket and gave it to Jonas. He didn’t want to get holes in it.

“The power has been cut. The doors are bulletproof, she won’t be able to shoot you through them.”

“I sure hope so.”

Isak walked through the barrier of police cars to the empty space between them and the doors. He looked through the doors at the woman, as calmly as he possibly could. He could not show his fear. The woman didn’t know he was scared for her, not for himself. But maybe, Isak told himself, maybe this one would finally listen. He had been kept off all the major news, but some independent media houses had featured his gigs before. Maybe this lady had seen them. Isak could always hope.

“I’m unarmed!” Isak shouted, raising his arms. He held his palms open too, for her to see. “I just want to talk!”

“Get the fuck away or I will blow his brains out!”

Isak stopped. He closed his eyes just for half a second. Took a deep breath.

“You’re not a killer yet”, he told her. “You don’t have to become one.”

“I told you to fuck off!”

The woman pressed the gun tighter into the man’s temple. Poor bastard was scared shitless. His pants were black but Isak was sure the stale, heated up air behind the sliding doors was reeking of piss. Neither of them wanted to be there.

“Just let him go and we can all get out of here, okay?”

Isak took a couple of steps more, closer. She did not like that one bit. She wrapped her arm around the man’s neck and pointed the gun at Isak. Shit. Please, listen, just listen.

“I will fucking shoot you!”

“That door is bulletproof glass. You will just break your eardrums.”

“Fuck you!”

Suddenly the doors slid open. The barrier between Isak and that gun disappeared, just like that, in one silent smooth motion. He looked her in the eye. His pupils dilated.

“No”, Isak whispered, but it was too late. He heard three shots. He felt three hits shake his body, force it backwards, and he fell on his back. He could smell the gunpowder and the piss and the blood.

“Get the paramedics!” Isak heard Jonas scream. He sat up slowly and saw the woman laying on her side on the floor. She looked confused. She was squeezing her stomach and dark blood kept spilling out of her, staining her hands. Isak could tell the paramedics would be too little and too late. He had felt where the bullets had hit, and he knew she was done for.

“I’m sorry”, Isak mouthed at her as the light faded from her eyes and disappeared.

 

Isak stood in his bathroom and stared himself in the eyes. He had been right. The young woman had died on the scene. Jonas had told him to be happy he had saved the man's’ life, but that didn’t really offer him solace. Jonas didn’t understand. He was Isak’s best friend, yet he had no idea how he felt. What it felt like to get shot and watch the bullets tear through the shooter’s unsuspecting flesh.

A woman had died today, and it was Isak’s fault. He had failed. Sure, he had been sent to do an impossible job, but still, failure was failure. And it had cost a life. Isak pulled his shirt off and looked at his body through the mirror. Not a scratch. He traced his fingers along his skin, poking with his fingertip at each point he had felt a bullet hit. Not a trace. He was intact. Just like every time when someone tried to do something to him, it was done to them instead. Isak felt nauseated at the memories, of blood, so much blood. And funerals. He never missed one.

The blade was on its place on the shelf under the mirror. Isak took it in his hand and sprayed some cleanser on it. He was not invulnerable, and if he needed surgery because of an infected wound he would have to do it himself. Better safe than sorry. Isak turned so his side was facing the mirror and raised his arm. He looked at the small scars running along his ribs, from his armpit down to the hip, in neat lines and rows. He took a deep breath and cut.

It hurt. It was supposed to. Nobody could harm him, but he could harm himself. He cut deep, like he always did, his hand was shaking when he dropped the blade on the counter. Deep, deep breaths, shaking and raspy, and between them silent, desperate sniffles.

It must have hurt less than a bullet wound, or a torn up liver.

Isak let the cut bleed until it stopped. Then he cleaned the wound and placed a band aid on it. He ran his finger along the uneven, bumpy scarred skin. There were so many. It had been thirty five years. Five years in cooperation with the police department. Many, many deaths. So many that this, his sacrifice, standing here and bleeding for the dead, had started to feel like an empty ritual.

_ Jonas calling _

Isak was startled by the voice, no matter how pleasant it was supposed to sound in human ears. It had always given him the creeps. He didn’t like things that weren’t real, which was kind of ironic since he, himself, was something so unreal. Surreal.

“Audio only.”

The call was connected. Isak removed his blood stained pants and threw them in the cleansing unit.

“Hello?” Jonas sounded curious. That wasn’t good. That was never good.

“I’m here”, Isak said. “Naked.”

Jonas laughed.

“First of all, ew, why are you telling me that?”

“You would have asked why I’m using audio only.”

“That’s true. And I was calling to see how you are holding up.”

“I killed a woman today.”

Jonas sighed. Isak had heard that same sigh so many times.

“She tried to kill you, Isak.”

“And here I am, talking to you, and she’s not breathing anymore.”

Isak wanted to tell Jonas. He longed for someone who would understand. He just wanted someone to kiss his scars and tell him he didn’t have to make any more of them, and that he could believe that someone. Way, way too much to ask for, and he knew it. Jonas couldn’t be that person. Isak wasn’t sure if anybody could.

That was the main reason he hadn’t let anything happen between him and Jonas. There had been times, moments, when it had been close. They had been close, or shaken, or emotional, or needy, and it had been prickling on both of their skin. The expectation, the pull, the chemistry. Isak had not let that reaction form. They were friends. Colleagues. That’s all.

“Are you there?”

Isak blinked.

“Yes? It was your turn to speak, you know.”

“I just. It’s hard, okay?”

“Uhm. Ew?”

Jonas laughed. Isak could almost hear him shake his head.

“Idiot. No. It’s hard to tell you this, so I’ll just say it. There is a video and it has leaked. We are trying to get it out but you know how it is.”

Isak nodded. Then he remembered Jonas couldn’t see him.

“Yeah. I know. It’s okay. Maybe he next one will see it and know not to fucking shoot me.”

“You don’t understand.” Jonas sounded weird again. Isak walked to the kitchen and punched his choices in the panel on the wall by the door. Cup noodles for dinner, again. They were not the most nutritious choice, but they sure were delicious.

“I don’t understand what?”

Jonas was silent again. Isak rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger.

“Look, just spit it out. I can take a bullet, I’m sure I can take whatever it is you’re not telling me.”

“Just. Imagine this. A hostage situation. Something went wrong, and now you’re surrounded by half the precinct, holding you at gunpoint. It’s stressful. You’re hungry, you’re pissed, you just want to go home but know you can’t, and the hostages are really getting on your nerves. Then, a man walks over, unarmed, and you recognise him. He’s the one guy you can’t shoot, or you die. What does that do to your stress level?”

Isak sucked on his bottom lip for a moment. He took deep breaths through his nose. Jonas was right.

“I’m off duty.”

“I’m not happy about it either. You were a fucking asset. Hundreds of lives saved, but now it’s over.”

Isak chuckled darkly. He ran his fingers over his scars.

“Looks like you’re stuck on doing your job the old fashioned way, detective.”

“Fuck you, too. There is no old fashioned way, not anymore.”

Isak’s noodles were done. He set them aside and reached under the counter. The bottle was half empty, but Isak would fix that tonight.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“You know what? Tonight, I might need a drink as well.”

“I thought you quit five years ago.” Isak opened the cap and took a swig of vodka straight from the bottle. It made his mouth twist a bit.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Jonas sounded relieved Isak had stopped him. That was what Isak did. He took hits for Jonas.

“I suppose the paycheck will be terminated with my employment.”

Jonas needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Isak could see his grimace in his head. He took another swig.

“Look, pal, I’ll try to have a chat with the HR but our budget was cut again this quarter.”

“Don’t bother. You’ll need every penny to replace your secret weapon.”

“Isak. I don’t want to argue with you. Stop trying to make me.”

“I’m not trying anything.” Isak slumped down in his armchair, cradling his bottle. He was planning on getting real up and personal with it tonight.

“Fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“If you insist.”

“I do. And Isak?”

“Mmhm?”

“You did good today. Try not to drink too much.”

“Later, bro. Unit, end call.”

The apartment became silent. Isak stared at the wall for a moment, taking angry little gulps of vodka from his bottle.

“Unit, turn on projector.”

The rectangle of light appeared on the wall. Isak waved his hand at it, flipping through thumbnails. He expanded the incognito video streaming service. After a couple of searches he found what he was looking for. It was surprisingly easy, considering that this service was mostly used for porn. Isak gave a passing thought to the poor sob who was jerking off watching him get shot at.

He put the video on loop. It was shot from one of the apartment buildings on that street. It had no audio, probably to hide the identity of the person who uploaded it, but Isak remembered every word that had been exchanged down there. He remembered the shots, one, two, three, their deafening sound. He watched himself stumble back by their force, and just seconds later get up, with holes in his shirt but not in his belly.

Isak passed out in the flickering light of the video, hugging the empty bottle tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Isak woke up with a banging headache and a back pain that meant business. Spending the entire night in the chair, in a combination of a slouch and a cuddle, was apparently a bad move, and downing half a bottle of vodka before that hadn’t been much smarter.

“Unit”, Isak croaked, his voice low and powerless. “Dim the lights.”

_ The lights are not on. _

“God, not so loud!” Isak hissed. Unit’s supposedly pleasant voice was like shrieking in his ears. 

Isak cracked his eyelids to take a peek. Unit was right. The lights weren’t on. The flickering brightness that sent tiny darts through Isak’s brain was coming from the video, still running in a loop, projected on the wall.

“Unit, pause playback.”

At least the flickering stopped. Isak covered his eyes with his hands and pressed down, hard. He needed a painkiller. They were all the way in the bathroom. His mouth was parched, his tongue felt like sandpaper and tasted like shit. Jonas was definitely the smart one. Isak sniffed at the mouth of the bottle in his lap and almost hurled at the smell. He put the bottle away. It made a sharp hollow rattle as it rolled along the floor. The sound screeched in Isak’s ears.

He needed that painkiller. Time to get a move on, soldier. You got shot last night, but with only three measly bullets. Nothing to it. Isak pressed his heels on the floor with determination, he pushed on the armrests with his hands and managed to drag himself up on his feet. A wave of nausea splashed over him, but he didn’t puke. Yet. It was still on the table.

It took him forever, but eventually Isak reached the bathroom. He leaned on the wall with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Unit, the lights --”

_ Turning off the lights. _

Isak shivered. He just didn’t like it one bit. Unit’s machine learning was simply creepy. Isak didn’t like a computer running his life in the first place, and he liked it making decisions for him even less. But this apartment had a central computer unit built in, and as long as Isak lived here he --

“Fuck!”

Isak’s eyes snapped open. He was grateful of the darkness. He stared into it, eyes wide, pressing his hands tighter against the wall. He needed a new apartment. This one came with the job, and he had just been laid off. He could crash at Jonas’ place for a while, but he needed to find some other place. He needed a plan, and his hungover brain was in no condition to make one. He wouldn’t probably be kicked out in a couple of days, at least. He could recover. For that, painkillers.

Isak found the pills and took three of them. They stuck first on his tongue, then in his throat. He staggered to the kitchen, the bitter taste spreading in his mouth, and grabbed the cold cup noodles from the table. He drank the oily, salty stock to wash the pills down. Seconds later he was bent over the sink, squeezing its edges, his body heaving. He didn’t throw up, but it came close.

After the painkillers kicked in Isak dragged himself in the shower. It felt like his body was trying to push the toxins of alcohol out through his pores. Isak didn’t bother watching out for his band-aid, he’d just replace it when he was done.

Something was bothering him. Now that he was just standing still in a stream of water, and not actively dying anymore, he had some time to think. There was something he had missed, something important. He had missed it quite recently. The fact that he really didn’t want to think about the events of yesterday didn’t help with remembering, and trying to remember didn’t help with not thinking about what happened. Isak was stuck in a loop.

A loop.

Wait a minute.

Isak rushed out of the shower, naked and dripping water, and ran in the living room.

“Unit, resume playback!”

He watched at the video. He watched himself walk down the street and stop to talk with the woman. She aimed the gun at him. The doors opened.

Isak waved his hand at the projection. The video was rewinded a couple of seconds, then it played again. She aimed. The doors opened.

“Unit, call Jonas!”

The video was replaced with Jonas, by his desk. He stared at Isak eyes wide.

“Dude! What the fuck?!”

Isak looked down. Oh. Right. The shower. He could only hope his dick distracted Jonas enough to make him miss his scars.

“Audio only!” Isak commanded and Jonas disappeared. “Sorry, I forgot. I just realized something important.”

“You do remember you’re a civilian now, right?”

“Take this in your headset. It’s personal.”

“Wait a second.” Isak waited. He heard rustling and a couple of curses under Jonas’ breath. “There. What’s up?”

“The doors.”

“You will have to be more specific than that.”

“The sliding doors. She shot me because they opened. Was the power hooked back on to the building?”

“It shouldn’t have been. It’s not protocol.”

“Fuck the protocol! You know there are crooks in your colleagues.”

Jonas was silent. He was probably trying to come up with a protest, but couldn’t make anything stick. Isak was right, they both knew it.

“What are you saying, Isak?”

Isak grimaced. What was he saying?

“I’m saying something’s up. Something’s not right. Don’t you think it’s quite a coincidence that something went wrong with the same exact operation that leaked out?”

“To call that a coincidence would make me a lousy detective.”

There was an awkward silence. They needed a pause. They needed to think about the gravity of what would be said next.

“Okay. Let’s say it was a set-up. To what end?”

Fucker made Isak say the heavy shit, huh?

“I don’t know. But something is wrong. Someone wanted me out.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. It might have been a glitch. Unlikely, but possible, and without proof we can’t be sure of anything. I’ll look into it and let you know what I find, okay?”

Isak didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to lie to Jonas.

“Isak. I need you to tell me you let me investigate this and wait to hear from me. You must be hungover as hell, just take it easy for today. Please.”

Isak sighed. Jonas was right. He wasn’t feeling too good. There wasn’t much he could do, either. Maybe he’d better just go to bed and try to sleep it off.

“Fine. I’ll stay home for today. Keep out of trouble.”

“Good. Thank you.” Jonas paused again. They were doing that a lot in this phone call. “You’re bleeding on your floor.”

“Fuck!” Isak tried his ribs. He felt the wet and as he pulled his fingers back he saw they were red. Fuck. Jonas had seen something. “I have to go. Call me if you get anything.”

Isak hung up and hurried to the bathroom. Jonas was right. He needed to take the day off, he was clearly not on top of himself right now. If he was correct, if this had been a set-up, he had no place in examining this case today. He was too prone to screw up.

Heh. Story of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the hottest day of the spring. Isak’s neck was sweating under the tie and the collar of his shirt. He was standing in the shadow of an old tree, but it didn’t really help all that much. The black suit was too hot for this weather, and Isak would simply have to deal with it. He watched the people gather around a hole in the ground, all dressed in black and their heads bowed in prayer. He crossed his own hands. Isak wasn’t really religious himself, but some habits were hard to break.

Isak didn’t even know her name. He never wanted to hear their names, because he couldn’t handle running into them in some other context and then remembering the confusion and fear in their eyes when they realized they were suddenly dying. It felt like a dick move, but Isak had to make it. He had to function.

The coffin was lowered into the grave. People were crying. The funeral wasn’t big, but there was about a dozen people attending. Isak had been to funerals with just one person escorting the deceased to their final journey. Sometimes there weren’t anyone but him. This girl had a family, and she was loved, and now sorely missed.

As Isak raised his eyes from the grave he saw someone standing under a tree further away. Dressed in black, tall - so tall that they were probably male, though it was hard to tell from this distance - and watching the funeral keenly. There was something familiar about the person. Isak’s gut was nagging at him to look into this closer. There definitely was something going on.

Isak focused on the stranger for the rest of the ceremony. He had turned his eyes to the burial, but he kept his attention in his peripheral vision and the person across the cemetery. Who were they? Why were they here?

Where had Isak seen them before?

The crowd started to walk away. The ceremony was over, and the mourning could begin. Isak noticed the stranger was turning to leave, and he decided to follow them. He walked in brisk long steps towards the possible suspect -- well, no, he was off duty -- but then someone grabbed his sleeve and yanked at it hard enough to make him spin around. Isak was looking at a woman, who looked uncomfortably lot like the girl who was now underground.

“You! How dare you!”

Isak tried to apologize and step past the lady. She refused to let go of his sleeve.

“It’s your fault my Susan is dead! You shot her!”

“Madam, I didn’t even have a gun. Please, I have to go now.”

The lady started to scream profanities at Isak and whacking him with her handbag. Isak tried to tell her he’s sorry. He tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Isak could just stand there, trying to avoid getting hit just because if she managed to make a cut or something she would receive it herself. He looked in the direction he had seen the person he wanted to follow, but didn’t see anyone anymore. Shit. He had lost them.

Isak turned his attention to the lady again. She had stopped hitting him and was rummaging through her bag to find a tissue. Isak reached into his pocket and handed a small pocket size package to her. She glared at him first, but then took it.

“Was she your only child?”

Isak’s question clearly caught her by surprise. Her face turned into stone, only to melt away in tears.

“I have three more. But she was all I had left of my Gustav.”

Isak heard a car horn. The rest of the family was probably waiting for the mother.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sorry about everything. I did my best but it wasn’t enough.”

They talked for quite a while more. Isak just stood there and took it all, whatever anger and wrath and pain the woman had, she could pour it all over him. It was the least he could do. He could afford a little bit of kindness. Finally two young men, probably her sons, came to retrieve her. They weren’t happy to see Isak, either, but their haste weighed more than their desire for vengeance. They left, to Isak’s relief.

He knew it was pointless, but nonetheless he walked in the direction he had seen the stranger go. Of course, he didn’t see them anymore. Not a trace. Perhaps it had all been his imagination? Had he seen his own conscience standing there, silently judging him?

Isak pulled the flask out of his breast pocket and took a sip. The burn of the scotch in his throat felt comforting. It rooted him in his body and this reality, the world of flesh and things. He would go get a bite somewhere, then he’d go home and get on with his life.

He didn’t look at the fresh grave as he passed it.

When Isak got home the first thing he did was take off his suit and tie. He walked to the living room in his underwear and glanced at the wall, where the video was again projected. He watched Susan scream at him through the glass, the doors slide open and the gun fire. He fell on his back on the street, people gathered round him, she fell on the floor bleeding. Over and over again.

Then he caught Isak’s eye. The long arms and legs, the way the man moved. The man from the cemetery was on this video, and now Isak could tell he was indeed a man. He stood on the sidewalk, almost out of frame, watching the doors.

It could not be a coincidence. It simply could not.

“I’m glad to see you’ve started dressing up again”, Jonas said. Isak dismissed his words with a quick wave.

“Whatever. Dude. I found something. Watch the video.”

“Do I have to? It’s so brutal.”

“You’re a cop!”

“I’m off duty, you know. It’s not like I live at the station.”

Isak laughed.

“Could have fooled me. Watch the video. Pause where she aims at me.”

“I’m watching it. You need to chill.”

“Did you get anything on the power?”

“Nothing. The power was cut, and it was never turned back on. We don’t know how those doors opened but it wasn’t us.”

Isak nodded.

“That’s both good and bad news.”

“Pretty much.”

“Are you at the part yet?”

“Just got there. What is it?”

Isak licked his lips quickly. He knew he was about to sound crazy. It was never easy to say things like that out loud.

“Watch the crowd. There’s a tall guy there. Tell me he’s not focusing on the doors right before they open.”

Isak waited while Jonas was watching. Jonas frowned.

“To me it looks like he’s watching the crazy girl waving a gun around.”

“Could be. But I saw him today as well.”

“Saw him? What do you mean you saw him?”

Yet again, a difficult subject. Jonas didn’t agree with Isak on him attending the funerals. But this was important. Bigger than Isak’s shame.

“Her funeral was today. He was also there, watching. We must find him.”

Just as Isak had thought, Jonas sighed.

“Isak, you should leave those poor people alone. If you ask them, their loved ones are dead because of you.”

“They’re correct.”

“No, they’re not! Isak, for fuck’s sake, it’s not your fault! They are the ones who start waving guns around in the first place!” Jonas had raised his voice, but then he heard it himself and toned it down again. “It’s not you.”

“We can talk about that later. Now we need to find that man.”

“We? You’re laid off.”

“Jonas, please. I need your help.”

Jonas sighed, again. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

“There’s not much I can do. The chief will not authorize a wild goose chase based on a person just standing on the street or at the cemetery, and he is right to do so.”

“You can take a look at the other videos to see if he’s there.”

“What other videos?”

“The ones that have been pulled out of circulation before it was too late. Videos of me getting shot and standing up like nothing happened.”

Jonas chuckled, darkly. He shook his head.

“You’re asking me to watch you get shot over and over again?”

“It’s not like it hurts me or anything.”

“It hurts me!” Jonas raised his voice again, and this time didn’t bother toning it down anymore. “I watch my friends and colleagues take bullets almost monthly! It never gets easier.”

Isak swallowed. Jonas was right. Or, at least, he had a point. Isak was asking for a lot.

“How about the people who actually die on those videos? How do you feel like watching them?”

“Fuck you too.”

Jonas terminated the call. Isak didn’t call him again. He went to get his flask and emptied it with a couple of angry gulps. He was onto something, something big, and Jonas was an idiot for not investigating this more vigorously. Sure, he had his hands full with other work, but still. This was important.

_ Received a message from Jonas. _

“Project message.”

Yes. Jonas had sent him the video files. Bless that bastard. Isak filled up his flask, sat down and got to work.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Isak longer than he had expected to watch the videos. He knew what happened in them, he had been present, but still it was hard to see. All those deaths. All that blood spilling on the streets. Blood that should have been his but wasn’t.

Of course Isak didn’t really focus on the events on the videos. He was watching the edges, the crowds, the sidelines. He was looking for a certain someone. Everything else was irrelevant. Unimportant. Worth dismissing.

Still, Isak emptied the flask four times during his marathon of blood and gore. The scotch burned in his belly and made his head heavy. His heart was feeling even heavier. It had been just days, but he missed Jonas. He missed working with him. If Jonas was here, watching these videos with him, they would have already found something.

Isak wouldn’t be drinking.

Jonas said he didn’t mind if Isak did drink around him, but it didn’t feel right. Especially since Isak had a habit of being pushy and persistent even when he was sober, and that got just worse when he was drunk. If Isak would have been fixated on the idea that Jonas had to drink with him, he wouldn’t have given up until that happened.

Jonas shouldn’t be drinking.

Neither should Isak.

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, detective”, Isak grumbled and got up from his chair. The floor was swaying a bit. Isak decided it was stable enough when he really focused on it. The video was still playing, but Isak had scanned the crowd completely already and he knew the man wasn’t there. He could have stopped the playback but he didn’t. He hadn’t been shot yet. He needed to see it. He owed that much to the poor bastard who didn’t listen.

Isak caught it in the corner of his eye.

A door opened.

A man stepped out. It was him. Moments before the bullets slammed against Isak’s chest, the man from the cemetery stepped on the streets and watched the scene. Isak read the neon sign above the door and grabbed his keys. He had a bar to hit.

BAKKA

The street was coloured red by the light shining from that word. One of the hands of the second K wasn’t burning now, but this was definitely the same door the man had stepped out through. Isak stood in front of it, hands in his denim jacket’s pockets, and stared at it like he could summon the man out with his will. When that did nothing, as expected, Isak grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

It was a bar, as Isak had thought it would be. It was packed, too. The long bar counter stretched all the way through the room, and the booths were spread out along the walls. Isak scanned through the crowd, but he didn’t see the man he was looking for. That didn’t mean he wasn’t there, or hadn’t been, or that nobody here could tell Isak where to find him.

Besides, there was a alluringly glistening array of bottles behind the bar. Isak could use a drink while he was investigating. He wasn’t on duty anymore, so technically he was not drinking on the job. Isak made his way to the bar, shoved himself on a seat between two brutes and flipped a bill in front of him. Soon enough he had his scotch in his hand, on his lips, down his throat.

“Come on, Mickey! Dance for us!”

Isak glanced in the direction of a sudden enthusiastic racket. A group of people, men and women, was encouraging a young man to do something. To dance. The noise, the clapping and whistling, spread through the bar like a tidal wave, and eventually everyone except Isak was cheering this Mickey on. Mickey himself was still pretending to be coy and reluctant, insisting that nobody wanted to see that. He made sure to show off his frame while he was at it, squirming from pose to pose, his midriff bare and his leather pants almost unnaturally tight.

The thug sitting next to Isak poked his elbow into Isak’s ribs.

“Clap, asshole.”

Isak glared at him. But when the man moved his jacket to the side, revealing a large knife, Isak decided that the man was clearly an idiot, but at least he didn’t deserve to die. So, he clapped. He clapped in the beat of the whole bar, poured his drop into the stream of approval and praise that Mickey was bathing in, until he finally agreed to dance. The crowd cheered. Isak stopped clapping just in time to catch his glass, which the barkeep shoved in his hand. The counter was cleared, and two muscular guys lifted Mickey up from his armpits. He was short enough to stand on the counter without hitting his head on the lamps. He was almost dainty, except for his attitude.

Someone handed Mickey a whip. Someone else turned the music on. Isak leaned a bit back. He was drunk enough to feel okay with appreciating a performance from a pretty thing like that. Especially to this music. It was loud and obnoxious and sexy, and it enveloped Mickey perfectly.

Then he started to dance.

It was nothing like Isak had expected. He had anticipated a strip show, or at least some writhing and dry humping one could call an exotic dance. But this was. Actual dancing. And this Mickey was really, really good at it. Isak watched his every move, hypnotized. A sense of peace filled him up from the inside as he watched the performance. Euphoria. Tranquility. The effects of alcohol vanished and he was rinsed clean. The bar dissolved around him, all that was left was a bubble where he was alone with Mickey. And he didn’t want to leave.

The music stopped. Mickey stopped dancing, on his knees on the bar, right in front of Isak’s face. He could probably feel Isak’s breath against his belly button. For a second that stretched out into half a forever Isak just stared at that belly button, and then the reality crashed back. It fell right on top of him, the whole world and its full weight, and it made Isak stumble off his chair down on the floor.

Everyone laughed, but it wasn’t mocking laughter. It was a laugh of a crowd that had been given what they had been waiting for. Mickey hopped off the counter and gave Isak his slender hand.

“Welcome to Bakka, indestructible man. We’ve been expecting you.”

Isak frowned. He was not happy about this turn of events. He was certainly not happy about this ambush. He pushed Mickey’s hand aside. Gently. Mickey had friends here, Isak had figured that much.

“You’re not a garden variety go-go boy. What gives?”

Mickey’s smile didn’t waver.

“You can take a bullet without a scratch. We all have our talents.”

Isak kept frowning. He was not in the mood to make new friends, or find a tribe or any other bullshit like that. He was drunk, lonely and pissed off.

“Who do you mean by this ‘we’, then?”

Mickey looked around, still smiling.

“Us. The Balloon Squad.”

Isak couldn’t help himself. He laughed. And his laughter was the mocking kind.

“The what now?”

Mickey wasn’t pleased. Neither were the two thugs who appeared on his both sides, cracking their knuckles. Isak knew he couldn’t be harmed, but he could feel pain. He toned down, a bit.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in joining any club. I’m looking for a murderer.”

If this would have been the type of crowd that gasped, it would have done so now. Mickey tilted his head. Fuck, he looked tasty. A tasty little snack. Those dark eyes and tan skin, and his full, pitch black hair. De-lish.

“A murderer? Who has been murdered?”

“I’m not sure how many victims there are, but at least one girl got killed because of him. It was the heist on Central a couple of days ago, I’m sure you’ve seen the video.”

Mickey laughed. This time it didn’t sound too pleasant.

“Oh, we have. And based on what we’ve seen we dare say you have already found your killer. Just look in the mirror.”

“Fuck you, you damn slut!” Isak spat and swiped Mickey’s legs with his foot. Mickey was dropped, and the same second Isak felt a swift kick around his ribs. Hard, but not hard enough to break his ribs. Fuckers sure had seen the video, Isak thought, bitterly, while he tried to protect his face and head with his arms and his torso with his legs.

When everyone willing had had their fun with Isak, he was grabbed and picked up from the floor. They carried him out through the back door and threw him on the street. The door was slammed shut.

Isak groaned and turned on his knees. He kept his head down for now, and just focused on breathing. Balloon Squad wasn’t just hot air, after all.

A pair of shoes stepped next to Isak. A cigarette butt was dropped next to it and crushed under the sole.

“Looking for someone?”

The man’s voice was low and dark. It made the hair on the back of Isak’s neck stand up. He wasn’t sure was it in a good way or the other way. Isak turned his head and followed the legs up. They seemed to go on forever. Finally Isak reached the zipper, which he passed quickly, and the belt, and then a long, lean torso. Isak rolled over on his back so he could look high up enough, though he already knew who he would be seeing.

It was him. The suspect. And he had a killer smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Isak reached for the gun he didn’t have on him. The suspect seemed to consider that quite amusing. He chuckled, leaning his shoulder on the brick wall, looking down at Isak at his feet.

“How many drinks have you had tonight, officer?”

Isak scraped a palmful of sand and pebbles and trash in his hand from the street and threw it at the man. Most of it landed on his own legs.

“Fuck you! I’m asking the questions here!”

The man smirked. Isak’s arm twitched and made him slap himself on the chest.

“What the --”

It happened again, this time higher up, almost on his face. It must have been that asshole’s fault. Isak based his fine piece of detective work on the fact that the smug bastard was looking so pleased with himself.

“Stop this immediately!” Isak commanded, right after slapping himself in the face. His arm kept twitching, ignoring all his orders, making his hand hit him again and again.

“Stop what, officer, sir?” The man stepped closer, then grouched, so he was on the same level as Isak was. He looked even better up close. “I’m not as much as raising a finger. It seems to me, if I may say so, sir, that you should probably stop -- hitting yourself?”

On that note, Isak slapped himself on the bridge of his nose. It made his eyes water and his face sting like a motherfucker. What the hell was this? Some kind of mind control? Isak remembered little Mickey and his hypnotizing dance skills, maybe this guy had something similar in his pocket.

“Get the fuck out of my head!”

“Oh, but officer”, the man said, suddenly really really close to Isak’s ear. Isak still couldn’t really see properly, his eyes were still watering. “I’m not the least bit interested in getting into your  _ head. _ Your pants? Perhaps, if you ask nicely.”

Isak tried to shove in the direction the man was speaking from but the bastard just hopped backward. Agile jerk. At least Isak could see again, and he managed to stumble up on his feet too.

Except his knee gave in under him as his leg spasmed. Okay. Okay. Easy, “officer”, easy. He had to find his calmness and assess the situation properly. Remain calm. Keep the perp talking. As long as he’s talking to you he can’t kill you -- besides, he can’t kill you, period. He would only end up dead himself.

“So, do you come here often?”

_ What _ the fuck, Isak? Really?

The man was way too amused by Isak’s words. He even laughed.

“That’s your plan on getting me into your pants, officer? You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I don’t want you in my fucking pants! I want you to answer my questions!”

Isak knew he had lost the battle. The one who raised their voice first, or raised their hand, were the one who had run out of options. As a seal for that thought, he slapped himself again.

“For fuck’s sake!”

The man laughed. At him, at his face. He looked annoyingly handsome when he laughed. Or when he did whatever. Isak really wished he wasn’t this drunk. His head was spinning, and he wasn’t feeling too well, either.

Oh, fuck. Hadn’t he been humiliated enough? Apparently not. Isak tasted the bile at the back of his throat just before his stomach spasmed and he flew on his hands and knees on the street. He threw up. His vomit hit the asphalt in sickening splashes, that smelled even fouler than they looked.

Isak spit on the puddle a couple of times, but the taste lingered in his mouth. His shame tasted more bitter.

“Come back when you’ve sobered up, officer.”

The man started walking away. Isak was about to rush after him, when his stomach cramped up again and forced him to stay down. He couldn’t even see where he was headed, and by the time his body released him it was too late. The suspect was gone.

“Fuck!”

Isak kicked the brick wall in his frustration. Bad move. Now he was humiliated, nauseous and in pain to boot. He dug out his cell from his pocket.

“Call Jonas.”

Fifteen minutes later Isak was sitting in Jonas’ car, gulping down a bottle of water. It made him feel slightly better, but only slightly. Jonas and his suspicion on what Isak tried to tell him didn’t help much, either.

“So, mind control? By modern dance?”

“I know how it sounds”, Isak grunted, frustrated. “But something’s very wrong with that club and you’re just being a lazy cop if you don’t investigate it.”

Jonas pulled over to properly yell at Isak without crashing into anything.

“Fuck you! You’re not a cop at all, remember? We. Have. Rules! For a fucking reason!”

“Your rules mean that a girl is dead and nobody’s looking into it!”

Jonas gritted his teeth together, like he always did when he really wanted to say something but decided not to. If Isak hadn’t been this off his game he might have poked at Jonas until he’d spill it.

“Get out”, Jonas said. His voice was low and menacing. Take notes, Isak, that’s how you threaten someone into submission.

“What? We’re not even close to my place yet.”

“Close enough. Walk it off. Sober up a bit, hit the shower and go to bed. Call me tomorrow when you’re ready to apologize.”

Isak rolled his eyes.

“Apologize?! Really? Are you fucking serious?”

Jonas reached over and pressed the button. Isak’s door slid open with a hiss.

“Fuck off, Issy. I’m done with your bullshit for tonight.”

Isak dragged himself out of the car, cussing. He kicked at the tire to underline his point. Jonas was being a shitty friend, a real proper asshole.

“My bullshit? MY bullshit?! I took a bullet for you! Again!”

Jonas didn’t even look at him when he pushed the button and the door slid back shut. Isak slammed his hands on the top of the car.

“Fuck you! FUCK YOU! You always walk away from me when I need you!”

The car drove off, despite Isak’s hits and kicks. Isak threw the water bottle at it, and missed. He picked up an empty can from the street and threw it as hard as he could. It bounced off the back of the car without leaving a scratch.

Fucking bastard. Isak shook his fist at the disappearing tail lights and finally took the time to check his surroundings. He was about a ten minute walk away from home. And he was less and less drunk by the minute, sobering up by the level of pissed off he was reaching.

Isak shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. The longer he walked, the worse he was feeling. He had taken his anger out on Jonas, once again, and Jonas hadn’t allowed him to, once again. How the fuck did Jonas have the patience to deal with him, Isak had no idea. Detective Jonas Noah Vasquez was a good man. A great man.

And a great cop. Fuck, Isak was a proper shithead, wasn’t he?

He needed a stiff drink, and then a couple more, and then --

Isak’s phone beeped. It was Jonas.

_ Go home. Sober up. Call me tomorrow. _

Fuck it. Isak didn’t bother replying to the message, he just turned his phone off. Fucking Jonas and his holier than thou attitude. He thought he was better than Isak. So, so much better.

He was right, though.

“Fuck!” Isak’s drunken scream of frustration and self pity spread through the empty street and was then dissolved into the wind. Then his phone beeped again. Didn’t he just turn it off?

Isak dug his phone out. It was off. But it had beeped, he was certain of it. He hadn’t been hallucinating because he knew what that was like, and this wasn’t it. Isak took a deep breath and turned his phone back on.

It rang. Immediately it turned on it rang, and Isak almost dropped it because he was startled by it. Isak didn’t recognise the number.

“Hello?” Isak knew he didn’t sound as stern and strong as he would have liked.

“Now you have my number.”

It was him. The smug arrogant bastard from the alleyway behind Bakka.

“How the fuck did you get mine?”

“It wasn’t even hard, officer Heartthrob.”

Isak closed his eyes. Fuck, he needed a drink.

“What do you want?”

“You’re the one who came to find me. What do  _ you _ want?”

“To be honest?” Isak looked around at the empty street. Not even one neon sign in sight. “I want a scotch. Straight up.”

“If you ask me, you’ve had enough for one night.”

Isak was getting pissed off again. How was everyone else knowing so much better about what he needed and didn’t need today, huh?

“Nobody asked you, dick.”

The man laughed. Isak was uncomfortably aware he was laughing at Isak, not with him.

“Go home.” Isak could hear the twinkle in the man’s eyes. He sounded so hot. “Get some sleep. You look so much better when you’re not a fucking mess.”

Isak probably imagined the purr he thought he heard in the man’s voice. Still it tickled the bottom of his belly. Why did he have to be so ridiculously hot?

“Fuck you too. I’m hanging up.”

“I’m sure you are, sir.”

Isak stopped walking and leaned his back on the wall for a moment, just to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. Why was he still talking with this loser?

“Stop calling me sir.”

“Why, do you prefer officer?”

Isak sighed. He shook his head at the darkness in front of him.

“I’m not a cop.”

The man fell silent. For a long, terrible moment.

“Have a nice night.”

The man hung up. Isak’s arm fell numb by his side and he heard the plastic crack as his phone hit the pavement.


	6. Chapter 6

Isak woke up with his head pounding. It felt like his brain was pulsating in a skull two sizes too small, throbbing, desperate for a way out, and instead of the obvious passageways like Isak’s ears or nostrils, it had opted for his eyes. Whenever Isak opend them he saw huge red spots and greenish black swirls, with a faint echo of squirming hips or tossed hair.

It was safe to say Isak wasn’t on top of his game today. If he closed his eyes his head hurt more, but if he opened them, the colours and swirls made him want to throw up. The fact that his heart was aching at least as much as his head was didn’t make things any easier.

But he hadn’t earned easy, now had he?

He had been a proper asshole to Jonas last night. From the second he decided to call him though he was drunk out of his mind to the dick twisting moment when he threw a can at Jonas’ car. Every time Isak had to apologise to Jonas felt like he had more to be sorry for. Every time was harder to ask for forgiveness, and Isak couldn’t help but wonder if giving it was equally hard as well.

Isak rolled off the bed on the floor. The hard surface felt comforting. Isak knew it wouldn’t suck him in. He laid his arm across his eyes to keep the spots away. He had to think. What would he say to Jonas. What could he? I’m sorry I got so drunk that I lost control of myself, again? Sorry I threw everything at your face, again? Quite literally this time?

“Fuck!”

Isak kicked on the wall. He had screwed up. But he had also discovered something interesting. Bakka. The dancing demon, the club of the weirdos and -- the hot piece of ass at the back. The blue eyes slammed into his mind and cut off every single thought. Isak remembered the alleyway, and how his arm had moved without his permission. He remembered the phone call, and how the man had hung up after learning Isak wasn’t an actual cop. That meant something. That must have meant something. Isak wished he hadn’t been this hungover right now, or this heartbroken.

_ Jonas calling _

Isak sat up quickly. And regretted that immediately. He laid back down, grunting.

“Audio only.”

“Thanks, I suppose. You must look like shit.”

“Ha ha.” Isak sighed, rubbing his face with his both hands. He sure felt like shit. “I thought I was supposed to call you.”

“I got tired of waiting. You sorry?”

“Look, Jonas, I really --”

“Whatever. It’s cool. Listen, I’m coming over.”

Whatever? It’s cool? Isak shook his head.

“Liar. It’s not cool, I was a real asshole to you last night.”

“We can talk about that later. I’m outside your building, are you dressed?”

Isak had to pat down his body to check.

“Yeah, I am, but what the --”

“See you in a minute.”

Jonas hung up. Isak was getting tired of people hanging up on him. At least this time it didn’t seem to have been his fault. Isak pulled himself up on his feet just in time to hear the doorbell.

“Open”, he said and scuttled to the kitchen. He shoved all the empty cans and bottles out of sight while Jonas entered the apartment.

“Might want to open up a window too”, Jonas said. “It reeks like death in here.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before inviting yourself over. What gives me the honour, officer?”

Jonas waved his hand, annoyed.

“Off duty. Sort of. Well, I’m on the clock but this is highly unofficial.”

Isak really wished his head wasn’t killing him. This seemed important. Then again, Jonas knew Isak would be hungover today and had still deemed this a priority, so this probably couldn’t wait.

“Okay. What is it?”

Jonas took out a data card and placed it on the table.

“You didn’t get this from me. This footage does not exist.”

Isak took the card in his hand and flipped it over, then over again. It didn’t have any markings on it.

“What is it?”

“It happened again. I had someone run a facial recognition scan on recent footage and it seems you were right.”

Isak frowned.

“A stunt like that can cost you your badge, Jonas.”

“That’s why this is secret.”

“A facial recognition scan? Do you even know anyone with that level of security classification?”

Jonas clamped his lips together and shrugged. He was not going to tell. Isak could probably find out, but there was no reason for him to. He didn’t need leverage on his best friend.

“Okay. Unclassified. Secret. Should I prepare myself for this tape?”

Jonas shrugged.

“It nothing you haven’t seen up close and personal before.”

That didn’t really comfort Isak at all. But he knew he could handle it. At least he had something else to think about than how horrible he was feeling. Isak pushed the card into the encrypted slot. It had only one video file.

“Play footage.”

The flashing light stung like a motherfucker. Isak squinted.

“Reduce brigthness by twenty percent.”

That was better. Isak watched the video on the wall, trying to see why Jonas wanted him to see it. It was just a crossroad, a rather busy one, where vehicles were dashing back and forth, in the rhythm of the traffic lights.

“Holy fuck!” Isak gasped when he realized what was happening. He stared, frozen, at the traffic light post that shone green on two directions. He covered his mouth when the car collided with a large transport vehicle. There was practically a puddle left of it.

“A malfunction?”

“That’s just it”, Jonas said. “These lights are fully automated. They don’t malfunction. Ever. But now they did.”

Isak nodded slowly. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the devastation. It was mesmerizing. The cargo spread along the streets, people were running and screaming, it was a small miracle there were no further damages in the disarray. The video ended.

“Did you miss it?” Jonas asked, knowing that Isak had missed it.

“Replay video.”

This time Isak kept his eyes away from the accident. He looked around the crowd, looking for a certain face, and then he saw him. It was the man, the hot blonde with blue eyes, and he was looking at the traffic lights very intently right before they malfunctioned. Isak closed his eyes and heard the crash, even though the video had no sound.

“Keep watching”, Jonas said. Isak opened his eyes and watched. He didn’t want to replay this video one more time, he had to pay attention.

“There. Did you see it?”

Isak nodded. He saw it.

“That girl with the scarf. She took something.”

A young woman had stopped by a broken crate, taken something and slipped it under her headscarf, before disappearing into the crowd. Isak looked at the street corner the man had stood in and saw he had gone as well.

“What the fuck’s this supposed to mean?”

Jonas shrugged.

“I’ve got nothing. Yet. But we have the same man, yet again, just happening to be there when something that works with electricity does something it’s not supposed to. You mentioned this bar, Bakka? Where people have powers?”

The back of Isak’s neck was tingling.

“Are you saying you think this guy can control electricity somehow?”

“I’m not saying anything. At this point of the investigation it’s dangerous to make assumptions. But I think this bar is worth another visit, don’t you?”

Isak grimaced. Wellll.

“I’m not sure if I’m welcome there after what happened with that fairy last night.”

“A fairy? Really, Isak?”

“He sure looked like one. This dainty, frail little thing, with his magic moves.”

“That’s just so. Of all people I know I wouldn’t have expected you to use a slur like that.”

“Shut it. You didn’t see him in there. That little bitch would love to be called a fairy.”

“Hostile, much?” Jonas went and took the data card from the slot and pushed it in his pocket. “I’m leaving now. Get yourself cleaned up and open that damn window. I’ll keep you in the loop, let you know if I find anything more.”

“I’m not hostile, I’m hungover and pissed because that  _ fairy _ got me beaten up last night.”

“As if you can be beaten up.”

“I can! I feel pain! They knew not to break anything, too, they know how I work.”

“That makes them wiser than me.”

Jonas sounded tired. Bored. That scared Isak enough to keep him from asking. He just nodded, and shrugged, at the same time and closed the door after Jonas had left. Then he went to open that fucking window.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever! Here, have a long chapter! I hope you like it. (Please tell me what you think!)

Isak was feeling slightly better. His head was still a bit sore, his eyes more so, and he was so, so thirsty. He was standing across the street from a bar, but still he hesitated. That wasn’t like him. But this bar wasn’t like other bars, either.

He wasn’t scared, oh no.

He was simply worried. His gut was telling him that one, last night’s drinking had been a terrible idea, and two, there was something very wrong with this place and the people inside it. But he had seen so much already. He had showed equally much. It would be wise to just step back and let Jonas do his thing, whatever the hell that was. But Jonas needed help. Someone who wasn’t a cop.

Cops had rules.

Isak pushed the door of Bakka open and stepped inside. He had expected the music to halt, the chatter to stop and that everyone would turn their head to look at him. None of that happened. The music kept playing, the chatter went on, and nobody probably even noticed he had stepped in. At least the lights were nice and low. And Isak could smell the alcohol from here.

He walked straight to the bar. He ordered a beer and looked around for a bit. He didn’t recognise anyone. But, to be fair, he remembered only two faces from the last time. The dancing demon and the hot stuff. Neither were there right now. Isak hadn’t made up his mind on whether he was relieved or disappointed, when his beer landed in front of him. It tasted wonderful. Cold, crisp, soothing. Isak drank half of it in one go, with his eyes closed.

Before Isak had opened his eyes he had been grabbed. At least two people, strong ones, grabbed his shoulders and upper arms. Isak had nothing against them. They yanked him up on his feet and dragged him through the door behind the bar. It was dark at first.

“Sana, if you don’t mind?”

It was the fairy. Mickey. Isak tried to jump at the direction of his voice, but the brutes holding him yanked him back and slammed him against the door. Fucking unpleasant. Isak opened his mouth to make a crack of some kind, when there suddenly was light. Orange, flickering light, a flame dancing on the palm of someone’s hand. Probably this Sana. The flame was transferred into a lantern, and the light spread through the room.

It was her. The girl on the video Jonas had showed him. Isak knew he was too hungover to really hide anything, these assholes already knew that he recognised her. He should not have come here.

She raised her brows and glared at Isak.

“Got a problem?”

Isak shook his head. No. No problems here.

“You are the ones who abducted me unprovoked.”

Laughing. Isak knew that sound. It was Mickey.

“Unprovoked? Really? You attacked me. Now you came back for more.”

Isak groaned. He was way too hungover for this.

“Why don’t you just do your little dance and make me tell the truth?”

Mickey laughed again.

“You wish. We have other ways of making you speak.”

“Much more entertaining ways”, Sana added, blowing a little flame off her fingertip.

“Ohhhh you really, really don’t want to burn me, miss.”

She cocked her head.

“So I’ve heard. Tell me, voodoo boy, what would happen if I simply set your clothes on fire? Would that count to your powers?”

To be honest, Isak had no idea. Nor desire to find out. So he stepped back, so to speak. He couldn’t actually move much in the grip of the thugs.

“Look. Just tell me what you want, so we can get on with our lives.”

“What do you want?” Mickey asked. “Why did you come here?”

“I have a serious hangover. I wanted a beer.”

“He’s lying”, Sana hissed. Mickey nodded.

“I agree. You could have found a beer from anywhere. Why Bakka?”

Isak took a moment to think. He tried his best to look like he was embarrassed. It was easy, all he had to think about was Jonas.

“All my life I’ve thought I was the only one like me. I know we got off with the wrong foot, but I just. I need friends. Like me.” Isak stopped talking before he seemed too desperate. No real confession was too detailed. He made sure to look at Mickey a bit too long, too. The pretty thing knew it was pretty and liked people taking notice of it.

“We don’t need more friends”, Sana stated. But Mickey was listening. He raised his hand and the thugs let go of Isak.

“I wouldn’t be so rushed to decide”, Mickey said calmly. He sounded almost gentle. But Isak knew that butterfly stung like a bee. He did his best to remain calm and look harmless. “We all have been new once.”

“None of us has been violent towards each other.” Sana wasn’t convinced easily. But she was a girl. Isak had never been good with girls. His charm worked badly to begin with, and toward women it was practically useless.

“You must admit it was rude of him to hypnotize me like that.”

“Bullshit”, Sana spat. A couple of sparks struck between her fingers. “You attacked him when you were confronted about your motive of coming here. When you were told you were looking for a killer at the wrong places.”

Okay, Isak didn’t remember Sana but she had obviously been there that night. Fuck.

“That’s not an easy thing to hear, okay?” Isak raised his voice. Sana flicked a flame on her palm. It made Isak pull back again. Take a deep breath. “All that death. All unnecessary. They just never listen.”

“If you’d started with ‘shooting at me makes you dead’ they might have.”

“Sana, that’s enough.” Isak jumped at the voice from the shadows. It was him. The hot blonde. Mister blue eyes. Isak took keen notice on how Sana obeyed him. Disgtruntled, yes, but still obeyed. At first Isak was grateful for the low lights, but when the man stepped into the light, the living, flickering flame of the lantern made him look hotter than ever.

The man looked at him, his brow raised. Isak realized he had been asked something. He had no idea what it was.

“Uh. I’m sorry, what?”

Fuck,  that smirk was to die for.

“I asked, have you sobered up yet. You don’t smell like you have.”

Mikael giggled. Isak felt something related to jealousy. He decided not to look into that further. He was busy.

“I’m just hungover. Does it matter?”

“You haven’t called me. That’s rude.”

Isak frowned. What games was this man playing? But it was obvious he called the shots here, so Isak had to keep him in a good mood.

“I’m..sorry. I dropped my phone almost immediately after you called. I was really drunk.”

A good lie makes you look bad. Great job, Isak! It was true, he had dropped his phone, but it still worked. Isak just hadn’t called the guy, because he didn’t have anything to say to him. And he had hung up on Isak, too, and that still stung.

The man chuckled.

“You sure were. I’m surprised you didn’t get hit by a car or something.”

Isak almost screwed up and told the man that he was safe because nobody was around to screw with traffic lights. How bad at this was he? Jonas would kick his ass for even considering going undercover like this, and he would have all reason to.

He just shrugged.

“I guess. Look, I paid for the beer. Can I at least finish it?”

“Mikael, be a doll and fetch us a couple of beers, will you?”

Mickey practically dashed away. Okay, Mickey was for Mikael. Good to know. The man waved his hand and Isak followed him to the next room. There the lighs were on and Isak could see the guy properly. Fuck, was he smoking hot in every light? Isak was so screwed. But, if he called the shots here, Isak wouldn’t probably see him too much.

Isak sat down on the couch. He noticed a box in the corner, with a blanket, a bedsheet and a pillow. The air was a bit stuffy. Someone slept in this room. A windowless room at the back of the back of a bar. Someone was hiding.

“So, what should I call you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your name. Since ‘officer’ is off the table.”

Isak didn’t have time to come up with a lie. Not this hungover. If he made up a name, he would forget it himself in minutes.

“Isak. Call me Isak.”

The man nodded. Then the door opened, and Mikael arrived with two bottles. They had different labels, and Isak noticed the man drank alcohol free beer. Interesting.

“Thanks, Mik. You can leave us now.”

Mikael wasn’t happy about that. But he obeyed the man, again. He left Isak alone with the man, and Isak had to gulp down a third of his beer at one go. The man seemed amused.

“I was about to propose a toast for a new friendship.”

Isak shrugged. Then he drank the second third of the bottle. It was so fucking tasty, and he really needed a drink.

“You never told me your name”, Isak said. This didn’t seem like news for the man.

“You can call me Even.”

Finally Isak had a name for that gorgeous face. A first name, probably fake too, but still. It made it easier to think about him, having a name made him a real person instead of a living wet dream.

Well. Kind of.

It was really great that Even was so annoying. Isak would not pursue him, because he wouldn’t stand the guy.

Then again, he  _ could _ shut him up by sticking his dick in his mouth.

Wait. How long had he been silent?

How long had he been staring at Even’s lips?

The lips curved into a grin. Even had noticed Isak had snapped out of it.

“Hi, welcome back.”

Isak emptied his bottle. He wished it was stronger than just a beer. And he was happy it wasn’t.

“Why am I here?”

Even raised his brow again. He was really good at that.

“You’re the one who came to us.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean here. In this room. Why am I here?”

Even smiled. He had a killer smile, too. Isak was just crushing on him so hard it almost gave him bruises. This unauthorized undercover gig was seeming like a worse idea by the minute.

“So Sana wouldn’t set you on fire. You’re welcome.”

Isak didn’t have any beer left, so he just played with the bottle. Stroked its neck back and forth with his fingers until he realized what he was doing and stopped, horrified.

“Thank you.”

Even’s eyes were twinkling again. They were full of stars, and Isak could have just stared into them for hours.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he already had.

“I should get going”, Isak forced himself to say. He wanted Even so bad he could taste it, and he wasn’t sure is all his originated from him. Not here. Not when the man was this close to him.

Even leaned back in his chair.

“Nobody’s stopping you.”

“But will they be stopping me from coming back?”

“Would you like to come back?”

Isak blinked. Fuck, those eyes, seriously. They were even worse than the lips.

“Yes. Like I said, I just. Want to find my people.”

“You just found them and still wish to leave now.”

Isak was squirming on his seat. He couldn’t think straight. What kind of a beer had that been?

“I have someplace to be.”

“Too bad. I was anticipating on pushing you on your back on that couch.”

Isak forgot how to speak. He had learned it when he was a bit less than three years old, but now he had no idea on how it was done. He pushed himself up on his feet and staggered backwards to the door.

“Maybe next time. Goodbye.”

“Call me!” Isak heard Even yell after him as he rushed out of the back room. He didn’t stop rushing until he was a good block away from the beckoning light above Bakka’s door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, but now I finally know where to take this. If you want me to keep updating this please let me know, I need motivation!
> 
> <3

Isak decided to take a detour on his way home. He didn’t want to enter the stuffy stentch of his apartment just yet, not now that his head was finally starting to clear up a bit. Thanks to the beer he had downed at Bakka.

Isak wasn’t sure when he had eaten something. There was a semi decent hot dog stand by the park that surrounded the graveyard. Isak headed there. He might as well take a little tour at the cemetery while he was here. A little trip down the memory lane. Isak slipped his fingertips under the hem of his shirt, feeling the ragged texture of his scars. He remembered. He would never forget.

After shoving the final bite of his second hot dog in his mouth Isak reached the iron gates. He pushed the creaking gate open and stepped on the carefully raked sand path. He headed directly for the still fresh grave of a young woman called Susan. He needed to see her, so he could remind himself that the man he was lusting after was responsible of her death.

Isak’s phone rang. He yanked it out and looked at it. Jonas. Not now. Not here. Isak declined the call and turned his phone off before shoving it back in his pocket. Whatever it was, it could wait. Isak was now on a pilgrimage to the dark depths of his empty and hollow soul.

It was easy to fall for melodrama in these circumstances. Isak was a fucking mess. He was so stupid. The very thought of falling for the prime suspect was something _so him_ that it was pathetic. Almost as pathetic as his drunken antics. Jonas was right, he was drinking too much. He should cut back. Or quit altogether. It was easy to think about things like that, out here in the sunshine and the greenery of the park. In his apartment or the smoky bar, not so easy.

An hour and a half later Isak was heading back home. He had stood by Susan’s grave, trying to come up with something to tell her, but he had nothing. There was nothing he could have said. She had died for nothing, and she had died because of Isak. Isak’s thoughts kept going round and round in the same circle all the way home, until they got interrupted by a security guard shoving a box against his chest.

Isak grabbed the box instinctively. He looked down into it, and saw some half empty bottles of booze of various kinds, and the things he had kept in his drawer, and some databank sheets.

“The rest of your items have been moved into a storage unit. This month’s rent has been paid. The keys are in the box.”

Isak looked up at the guard. What..what?

“What?”

“Thank you for your services, sir. Good luck finding a new apartment at the free market.”

A new apartment. Isak remembered something he had forgotten, something important. How drunk had he been these past days? Very. Very fucking drunk.

“Shit. I’m being kicked out.”

“Were, sir. Please don’t attempt breaking and entering.” The guard looked nervous. He propably knew that if he injured Isak he would suffer himself. Isak wasn’t feeling like a fight, he felt more like deflated. Defeated.

“What about Unit?”

“Full factory reset, sir.”

Isak rubbed at his mouth and chin. Unit didn’t have a personality, not one you could speak of, but it had learned Isak’s habits and accustomed to them. Unit was closest thing to a friend Isak had, in addition to Jonas. And now Unit was gone.

“Where’s my phone?” Isak rummaged through the box, but couldn’t find it. The bottles clacked together, and their chime was the most embarrassing thing Isak had ever heard.

“There wasn’t a phone, sir. I supervised the clearance personally.”

“What the fuck have you done with my phone!” Isak dropped the box and grabbed the guard’s clothes. The man looked at him, startled, uncertain.

“Uh. I’m sorry but, sir, have you checked your pockets?”

Isak paused. He blinked.

His pockets.

He let go of the poor guy and patted his pockets. And yes, he found his phone.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry, man! It’s just -- all this -- I had a home like three hours ago!”

“I have been here for four hours now, sir. With all due respect.”

Isak wiped his mouth again. He could feel his stubble scrape on his palm. He must have looked like shit.

“Oh. Okay. I’m. I really am sorry. I think I’m still a bit drunk.”

The guard looked at him, now visibly concerned.

“Will you be alright now? Do you have someplace to go?”

Isak turned his phone on. Messages flooded in, stealing his attention from the man trying to get it right in front of him. Messages from Jonas.

 _Isak pick up. I need to talk to you._ _  
_ _I called as soon as I found out. I tried._ _  
_ _You need to get home, now._ _  
__Isak I’m so sorry._

Isak lifted his eyes from his phone to the man again. He had a kind face. Not really something one would expect from a security guard, but under his uniform he seemed to have enough muscle to subdue anyone he needed to.

“Sorry?”

“Here.” The man wiggled the card he was holding in his hand. “Take my card. If things get real bad, call me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Isak took the card and looked at it. It had just a name and a phone number on it, scribbled by hand. Certainly not something people would refer to as “their card”.

To be fair, this Magnus Fossbakken didn’t seem like other people in many regards. Isak slipped the card in his pocket. He lifted the box from the ground.

“Uh. Thanks. Look, I’ll be alright. I have friends.” He did not. Just Jonas, and he was not going to bring all this liquor to his place. Hell no. He wasn’t going to drink it all and then go knocking at Jonas’ door, either.

But there was one place he could maybe go.

“Are you sure, sir? It’s just that. I’m so sorry for having to do this. You have saved so many officers during your career, and if you ask me, this is a real disgrace. If I’m not too bold, sir.”

Isak gave a clumsy pat on the man’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you for looking after my things.”

It took Isak five more minutes to finally get rid of the man. Magnus Fossbakken seemed like a real sweetheart, but that was the exact opposite of what Isak needed now. As soon as he had turned around the corner he lifted his phone on his ear.

He picked up after one ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi. You told me to call.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit less action than I anticipated. But there is some!

Isak hesitated. He stood in the alley behind Bakka, where he had first had a conversation with a man who he was so, so not supposed to go to meet now. But what else was he supposed to do? He was holding everything he had in his hands, in a box, at least by proxy -- most of the stuff was in a storage unit somewhere, but the key was in the box, and this kind of technicalities brought if not solace then at least a welcome distraction to Isak’s fluttering mind.

At least he had been able to reduce the amount of half empty bottles by a couple. He had tried to combine two different vodkas into one bottle, but that had proven too difficult, and he had just guzzled down the one with less left in it. That gave him a really nice buzz. Took the edge off, so to speak. But blunt objects left sore bruises as well.

Isak almost dropped the box when the back door opened. It was the fire lady, Sana. She shot at Isak what could only be described as a glare as she passed him by, making a point of circling as far around him as the narrow alleyway allowed her to. Isak jumped at the door and managed to shove his foot in before the door closed. After a little wiggling and a selection of profanities Isak had made his way inside.

He heard music. And he recognised the tune. Fairy dance.

Isak was sneaking forward as quietly as he could. He stopped at the door that led to the back room. The lights were flickering, like candlelight. He saw a shadow dancing on the floor first, then his eyes followed it all the way to the fairy itself. Mickey was dancing for Even, who was sitting in an armchair, sunken deep into the soft cushions. He looked stoned out of his mind. Only his eyes moved, keeping track of Mickey’s moves.

From behind the magic didn’t work, it seemed. Isak wasn’t sinking into any kind of trance, or experiencing anything similar from the first time. All he saw was a boy dancing really well. And a man who was very focused on that.

The fairy dance got more intense as the music approached the crescendo. Mickey threw his hair wildly, he swung his arms in delicate broad arches, and his hips had a mind of their own. It didn’t hypnotize Isak this time, but he still couldn’t turn his eyes away. There was too little beauty in this world to begin with, and it would have been a waste to not observe it when you met some.

When Mickey got up on his knees on the chair’s arm rests, rolling and thrusting his hips almost at Even’s face, Isak swallowed the black bile of jealousy he could almost taste at the back of his throat. He had no claim here, for either of them. Neither did he wish to. Right?

Mickey stopped dancing. The lights stopped flickering. Even looked past the flat tanned abs right in front of him, straight at Isak.

“That will be all, Mikael. Thank you.”

Mikael looked over his shoulder and saw Isak. His enticing smile withered away. But he didn’t object, he hopped down and disappeared through the door that led to the bar. Leaving Isak alone with Even.

Even peeled himself off the chair, standing up.

“Don’t put that down yet. Bring it here.” Even led the way to the backer back room, where there was a bed made. Just the couch folded out, but still, a bed for two. Isak swallowed, hard. This had been a terrible idea. Why the fuck hadn’t he called Jonas?

Because he was pissed at Jonas. He had expected this, getting kicked out, but not on this schedule, and Jonas had obviously not done enough to stop it.

“Just put it wherever”, Even said, with a wave of his hand. Isak raised his brow.

“You’re used to handing out orders, aren’t you?” Now that Even had taken leadership, by giving Isak permission to relieve his burden, it didn’t matter where it would be left. Even was clearly in charge here. A man of authority, accustomed to power. Great work, amateur detective Valtersen!

Even looked amused.

“Rough day? Need a drink?”

Isak wanted to say yes. His mouth felt parched. A nice, cold beer would really be super tasty right now. Isak had deserved one, too, carrying this box all the way here. He had been suffering, hadn’t he?

Even didn’t wait for him to answer. He opened a tiny fridge and took out two bottles. Alcohol free beer for himself and a regular one for Isak. He popped the caps open, too, so Isak’s refusal would mean wasting a perfectly good cold one.

“You don’t drink?” Isak asked, as casually as one could as such a thing. He took the bottle as Even offered it, and the second he felt the cool, smooth surface of the glass he got thirstier.

“No”, Even simply said. He was watching Isak, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling. It was a challenge. He was daring Isak to ask why.

“Why not?” Isak lost the battle to the allure of the bottle. He took a long swig from it, and it tasted so fucking great. Just this one more day of drinking, then he’d sober up and go to Jonas. One more night.

Even sat down on the corner of the table. His feet barely left the floor when he scooted as far back as his knees allowed him to.

“Don’t like it.”

Isak blushed, for some reason. He took another swig just out of defiance.

“Tastes fine to me.”

“Please, don’t let me stop you from enjoying it.”

The third swig tasted stale. It was cold and crisp, but still, it wasn’t tasty anymore. Isak remembered Jonas again. He remembered he shouldn’t be here. Isak put the bottle on the table, next to Even’s hip.

“Too late.” Wait, why was he admitting that? How bad at this was he? What was  _ this _ supposed to be anyway?

Better stop the interrogation for tonight. He was in no state to do any undercover work. He was too drunk, too tired, too pissed off and too turned on. Isak let go of the bottle slowly, letting his fingertips barely brush at the side of Even’s thigh as he pulled his hand back.

Even leaned on his palm and lifted his shoulder up, hiding his face behind it coyly.

“Was it something I said?”

“Speaking of things you have said”, Isak started, pausing to lick his lips quickly. “Too bad you don’t have a couch anymore. Just a bed.”

Even looked amused. Isak took it. Small victories.

“Technically it’s still a couch, it’s just folded out.”

Even slid slowly down from the table. Isak stood still, waiting for him. His skin was tingling all over all of a sudden. Electricity. Even stepped closer, then a bit closer more. The backs of their hands were almost touching, and Isak could feel the spark that was just about to strike.

“Well, then”, Isak whispered. Even grabbed him from behind his neck.


End file.
